


A Better Friend

by maryagrawatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryagrawatson/pseuds/maryagrawatson
Summary: Middle of the night phone calls are never good.





	

The ringing of his phone pulls him out of a deep sleep. Heart pounding, he twists to look at the clock radio. 2:18 AM. He fumbles for the phone and manages to answer it on the last ring.

Ten minutes later, he’s in a cab, coat pulled on over his pajamas, bare feet stuffed into shoes with untied laces. He hasn’t combed his hair or cleaned his teeth. His mind is still fuzzy and he’s running on instinct.

He tells the sergeant at the front desk who he’s come for. He’s made to wait a moment that feels like an eternity and then a uniformed officer escorts him down to an interview room.

She’d been crying so hard on the phone an officer had had to take over and tell him where to come. She seems calmer now as her red and puffy gaze meets his. Her cheek is bruised and so are both her wrists. He’s not sure what makes him angrier, that this was done to her or that he can’t deduce if that’s the worst of it.

“I kicked him in the bollocks,” she says in lieu of a greeting. He quirks a smile before stepping closer and holding out his arms. She falls into them, crying again. He rocks her gently.  
“N- nothing happened,” she makes out.  
“Your reaction is perfectly reasonable,” he assures her, stroking her hair.  
"I didn't know who to call."  
"It's all right."  
“He took my bag.” She takes a shuddering breath. “My phone. My cards.”  
“But nothing that matters.” He looks up at the officer. “Can we go?”  
“Yes. We can use your number as a contact?”  
“Of course.” 

They take a cab back to Baker Street, where he leads her upstairs and settles her on the couch, pulling the afghan around her. “I’ll make you a cuppa, then I’ll run you a bath. Okay?” She sniffles and nods.

John always put four sugars in his tea when he was shocky, so he does the same for her. She thanks him as he presses the hot mug into her hands.

The bathroom isn’t a disaster, but almost. He sweeps through as quickly as he can, cleaning the tub and then running hot water as he wipes down the sink. He then goes into his bedroom for a moment before returning to the sitting room.

“Bath’s ready. I put out something for you to change into and a fresh toothbrush.”

It’s well past 4:00 when she comes out of the bathroom, his blue dressing gown over a pair of his shorts and his least ratty tee shirt.

“Hungry?” he asks.  
 “Do you have eggs?”  
 “Scrambled with toast, and more tea?”  
 “Please.” 

After he hands her the plate of food, he sits beside her. She promptly curls into his side.

“Sheets are clean,” he tells her as she takes her last bite.  
“Will you join me?”  
“If you want me to.” 

The adrenaline has run its course by the time they slide into bed together and his eyelids feel heavy. She’s nearly boneless as he pulls her close.

 “Sherlock?”  
 “Hmm?”  
 “You’re a better friend than you were a boyfriend.”


End file.
